


Reciprocation

by vondrostes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Bodyguard, Bottom Harry, Canon Compliant, Deepthroating, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 13:44:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20341078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: Harry squeezes in some private time with his new 6'10" bodyguard.





	Reciprocation

**Author's Note:**

> Not actually an original character, obviously, but Harry's bodyguard doesn't have a tag so I'm leaving it as that for now. This was a short Request, and I'm definitely opening to writing more about them in the future!
> 
> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
Tumblr: @vondrostes

Mason had heard a lot of rumours about Harry Styles before ever actually meeting the lad. That was unavoidable, seeing as how he’d worked for half a dozen people in Styles’s inner circle (or formerly, at least), but Mason wasn’t the type to put much stock in rumours and hearsay. Especially when it came to what someone liked in bed—not that Mason ever expected to know the truth about that. As far as he was concerned, once Styles was through with his stint in the UK, they’d go their separate ways, and if Mason was lucky enough, he’d get a glowing referral that would eventually lead him to his next client.

Mason didn’t think anything of the music emanating through the door to Harry’s hotel room as he approached and knocked lightly, waiting for a response that didn’t come. He knocked again, a little louder. Nothing. He stepped back and evaluated the door with a frown.

Harry had been the perfect client thus far, and Mason hadn’t gotten any indication that he would become difficult to deal with in the long run, but their train was leaving soon, and Harry still had yet to emerge from his lodgings so they could make their exit—hopefully without attracting any fan attention this time.

Mason stood there for a few seconds and decided to try knocking again. Nothing. Clearly the music was loud enough that Harry couldn’t hear him; maybe he’d overslept and the music had drowned out his alarm as well.

Mason decided to open the door.

It became rapidly apparent as soon as he walked into the room to find Harry knelt on the bed, facing away from him and completely starkers, that the rumours were indeed true. Because between Harry’s legs was a positively massive purple dildo, startlingly veiny and seemingly too large for Harry to properly take.

“Maybe you should try going down a size,” Mason found himself saying in a calm voice that managed to carry over the music.

Harry whipped his head around to look at Mason with a deer-in-the headlights expression before throwing himself down against the pillows and yanking the blankets up to his armpits in an attempt to preserve his modesty. The dildo still lay at the foot of the bed, though, completely unobscured now and gleaming wetly with the remnants of whatever he’d used to lubricate it.

“Shit,” Harry said, his eyes still wide. “How long were you—”

“Just walked in,” Mason told him. “I don’t make a habit of spying on my clients during their private time. I thought you were asleep,” he explained. “Didn’t want you to miss the train.”

“Oh.” Harry’s face relaxed by degrees. “Oh, I see.” He continued staring at Mason, but there was something different in his expression now, something that was rapidly replacing the shock and surprise at being caught in such a compromising position by someone who was still a virtual stranger to him.

Harry still hadn’t asked Mason to leave, and perhaps it was wiser to take the initiative himself in this case, but Mason decided on a whim to stand his ground, purely because of the look on Harry’s face. He’d made a career of guessing at people’s inner thoughts and desires and predicting their behaviour before they had a chance to enact it—if he knew anything at all, he knew exactly what that look meant.

“We still have a few minutes before we have to get going,” Mason informed him. “If you want me to wait outside and leave you to it….”

“If I didn’t want you to wait outside?” Harry replied automatically, the pitch of his voice nearing a falsetto.

Mason shrugged and took a step forward. “I’m sure we could find something to do in the meantime,” he said.

Harry slowly lowered the blankets as he stared at Mason, not looking away until he was completely uncovered again. “What do you want me to do?” he asked shakily.

“What do you want to do?” Mason shot back. He glanced over at the dildo that lay discarded on the bed. “Could try to use that on you, if you’d like, but it seemed like you were having a bit of a hard time with it. No pun intended.”

Harry flushed as he shook his head. “Can I—” he started before clearing his throat. His eyes roved down the line of Mason’s body before finally stopping at his crotch. “Can I suck you off?”

Mason gave it a second or two of thought as his eyes homed in on the soft pink of Harry’s lips, his tongue just barely peeking out from between them. It was a tempting offer; one he might not get again. “if you can make it quick,” he decided.

Both he and Harry moved forward in unison, meeting at the very end of the bed, which was low enough that Mason had to get down on his knees to put his groin level with Harry’s mouth as the lad got down on all fours, his chest braced against the mattress while his naked arse wriggled tantalisingly in the air.

Mason made short work of unzipping his trousers and shoving them down around his thighs. His cock flopped out in a way that should have been unappealing, but Harry was on it hungrily before Mason could say a word, already sucking the head into his mouth with a groan.

Mason was already mourning the fact that they wouldn’t have the opportunity to draw this out even as he started to grow hard in the heat of Harry’s mouth, waiting a few seconds so Harry could adjust to his size before scooting forward a bit, testing his limits further. He wasn’t a monster—certainly not comparable to the thing Harry had been trying to shove up his arse when he’d walked in—but he was proportionate, and he could tell that it was a challenge for Harry, who seemed determined to deepthroat him at all costs.

Mason decided not to discourage him, and distracted himself with the fact that Harry’s bum was still hovering in the air in front of him, well within arm’s reach thanks to the fact that Harry was an entire foot shorter than him and had an uncanny ability to compress his technically-average height even further when he wanted to.

So while Harry was swallowing wetly around the head of Mason’s cock and gagging every time he tried to suck in air through just his nose, Mason reached over him to hook three fingers inside the heat of his arse, making Harry’s whole body jolt as though he’d been electrocuted.

“Keep going,” Mason told him. It wasn’t a good angle for getting Harry off, but he could tell already that he was close himself, and he planned to give Harry any necessary attention after he came down his throat.

It was only a minute or so later that Mason felt his balls tighten, his own breath catching in his throat as he pushed in harder with his fingers, letting out a groan around a nearly incomprehensible warning, so that Harry could pull off if he really needed to.

But Harry, who was living up to Mason’s every expectation and then some, simply swallowed hard around the head of Mason’s cock, drinking down every last drop he had to give before pulling off with a cough and a blissed-out sigh.

Harry flopped onto his side, looking like the cat who had gotten the cream (literally), but Mason couldn’t help but notice that his prick was still hard and leaving a wet streak against his belly where he was leaking a steady stream of pre-come.

Mason didn’t give Harry any warning at all before scooping him up with both arms, lifting him bodily until Harry’s slender legs were hooked over his own shoulders.

Harry reflexively shot out his hands and curled them into Mason’s hair in an effort to keep his balance as his mouth widened into an ‘O’ of surprise. “Have you ever—” he started to ask as Mason shifted his grip on Harry’s hips to tilt his cock toward his own mouth.

Mason swiped the flat of his tongue over Harry’s cock, tasting it before glancing up into Harry’s eyes. “Not for a long time,” he admitted. This was the sort of thing he’d thought was long behind him, actually, the sort of thing lads got up to when there weren’t any girls to be had, but an arse was an arse and well—sometimes a cock was just a cock, and it didn’t really matter that Mason hadn’t had the urge to put his mouth on one in well over a decade now.

Without further delay, Mason slid Harry’s prick between his lips and sucked hard. With his left hand, he kept a tight grip on Harry’s arse, straining his muscles to keep him balanced with just one arm as he moved the fingers of his right hand to press between Harry’s arse cheeks and into him, feeling around until Harry let out a high-pitched yelp, and then pressing down hard against that spot as he continued to nurse at the end of Harry’s cock.

It was a delicate balancing act, but worth it for the stream of babbling moans and whimpers that poured out of Harry’s mouth as Mason continued to massage his prostate, still with Harry’s prick in his mouth, and then finally, there was a concentrated rush of saltiness against his tongue, stronger than before, and Harry’s fingers tightened in his hair as he let out a guttural cry.

Mason let him finish coming, swallowed, and then carefully lowered Harry back onto the mattress to recover.

Harry blinked up at him blearily. “Want you to fuck me,” he said, his speech slurred as though he were drunk now.

“Later,” Mason promised him. “We still have that train to catch.”


End file.
